Reflections
by Rainsaber
Summary: Athos, still in the fresh stages of fatherhood, comes to a realization with the help of his infant son. From the 'Bitter to Sweet' universe. Non-slash.


**Reflections**

**Summary: **Athos, still in the fresh stages of fatherhood, comes to a realization with the help of his infant son. From the 'Bitter to Sweet' universe. Non-slash.

**A/N: **At the time I wrote this I was in a severe need for comfort fluff. Life is too short. So out of that rough time came this short father/son moment between Athos and Raoul, inspired by a striking moment I witnessed at the hair salon one day. Sometimes I think all we need is a little distraction to make our days brighter. And maybe a little more patience to slow things down and appreciate the really important things properly.

**Warnings: **From a slash universe, but does not include any slash aside from a vague reference.

**Disclaimer:** The Three Musketeers and its characters rightfully belong to Alexandre Dumas. I'm just a serial borrower.

* * *

Raoul cooed in Athos' arms as he carried the four-month old boy upstairs to be changed. Athos was very quickly realizing that D'Artagnan's penchant for trouble was rubbing off onto their boy in small ways. And if Athos was a bit more honest, he himself caused both of his parents enough trouble as a boy to warrant the payback. Athos shuddered to think what their new normal would be when Raoul started walking. Couldn't babies stay this small for longer than a month at a time?

He walked down the hallway, looking down at his son's blank face as he went. Athos smiled to himself at the doe-like eyes that took in his surroundings. His feet slowed to prolong the moment and commit it fully to memory. Then Raoul's eyes widened as he looked at something off to their right. His eyes followed it and Athos frowned as he stopped to look at what captured his son's attention.

A full-length mirror hung on the wall.

Athos looked back at Raoul who was waving his little arm at the reflection. Then his face broke out into a wide smile. He looked up at his father and then back at his own reflection. Athos couldn't help the smile on his own face, as much as he tried to hide it. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking and stepped closer to the mirror, bouncing the boy on his way and surprised at his own playfulness with him.

If it were even possible, Raoul's smile got brighter. Standing in front of the mirror, Athos put his arm around Raoul's little belly and the other under his bottom. The boy took advantage of his free arms and reached out with both of them to touch the glass. Though his hands were sticky with sugar, Athos leaned forward and let the boy touch the glass. Raoul leaned forward himself to reach it with a breathy grunt and the smile faded for a few moments under discovery of something new.

Raoul looked at his hands, then back up at himself and smiled again, open-mouthed and brilliant. Then he looked up at his father and exhaled in a soft laugh. Athos bounced him again and got some louder laughter out of him as the little boy thumped his hands against the glass, completely joyous. Athos kissed the top of Raoul's head and couldn't bring his nose away from the sweet smell of his son's angel soft dark hair. It was a smell he had no previous memory of in all his years, but one that once he first discovered he couldn't get enough of.

Athos dared look into the glass too.

He looked at his son.

At himself.

At those little hands that were dwarfed by his own.

He loved this boy.

He would do anything for him.

Anything in the world.

It was a profound feeling, so large that initially it frightened him, but upon closer examination it felt fundamentally different from the blind love he thought he knew when he was younger and naïve. And it was different from what he felt for D'Artagnan. This kind of love he had heard stories about. This kind of love he had witnessed in others, in strangers, and scoffed at. This kind of love he felt for his son was infinite.

And it brought tears to his eyes.

Happy ones.

He didn't realize he was smiling himself until he looked back into the mirror and noticed the big smudges Raoul had made. Grimaud would fuss later about the mess, but Athos couldn't find the pity in him to care. Athos kissed the top of Raoul's head again and reluctantly straightened and started down to the nursery.

Raoul made a loud syllable-less noise of protest, but Athos had none of it.

"You don't want to end up like Porthos," he told his son.

Raoul craned his neck upwards, not understanding, but soon became quickly absorbed in making his changing and cleaning as difficult as possible for his oddly more patient father.


End file.
